The old sports arena hadn't interested me much, but Marvis was dead set on resting awhile. It could have been me just being anxious, but I had no desire to bunker down with these people. Marvis and I hadn't seen eye-to-eye since they rescued me. However, I felt I owed them. The old Bradley Center is a ruin; a testament to a now archaic form of athleticism that hadn't survived “the end”. It reeked of decay and a pungent undertone that none of us could quite put our fingers on, nor did we want to. In the upper quarters of this place lay the Staff Only sections. I didn't trust it. It felt too inviting with it's fresh scent and carpeted stairs. It felt too good to be true, but I followed. Every time I felt like opening my mouth I'd look behind and see Marvis and think “What's the point.” He'd only out talk my and we'd end up going regardless. I followed, not quite feeling well about the place, but hopeful that maybe it would profit me. I felt useless. Somehow young Bindi was an amazing scavenger. I'd be impressed if I hadn't felt it was a fluke. As she began to search my mind would think about my first mate and only friend Shepherd. I hadn't seen him since I fled Milwaukee on that dark, raining night. He could be dead for all I knew. Sullivan's Fleet had no grief with him... but he was the closest person to me. I had to stop thinking like this. More so than ever, surrounded by a strange group in a relatively safe place I wish I had a drink... As Bindi scavenged for anything of use, I found myself sitting against a wall trying not to doze off. Sleep was difficult in Milwaukee, but even more difficult with my dreams. I didn't always remember them exactly, but they usually had to do with my mother and younger siblings. I've tried to hard to keep them from my mind, but every time my brain relaxed, I could feel their presence gently caressing my heart – Were they okay? Part of me wanted to escape back to Green Bay to see them... if they were still there. I'm was quickly awoken by the sound of Bindi's high pitched squeal of approval. “US-MIC! I found an US-MIC!” Bindi said holding a bayonet shaped letter opener. Brad had been standing near by and checked on what she found. “Bindi, it's just USMC.” “Well, I'm keeping US-MIC.” she said, smiling. “I also found this.” Bindi pulled out a brand, spankin' new hand gun with chrome pieces and a wooden handle. I clenched my old revolver. I could feel it's worn down handle in my hand and it's rusty chambers. It wasn't as reliable as I'd hoped. This new one would be. “It's mine!” I called out. “I'll take it, Bindi. I'm pretty decent with a hand gun.” She smiled and handed it over. I looked over it with wonder. Nice hand guns were a rarity in Milwaukee. If you could afford one this nice and didn't know how to use it, you wouldn't have it for long. Once knowing for certain this office was a safe haven, Marvis walked back up the stairs to join us. As soon as he saw the shiny gun in my hand, his eyes widened and his ears perked up. “Heeeey, whatcha got there, man?” Marvis said all the while never taking his eyes off the gun.” “It's a hand gun. Bindi found it. She gave it to me.” I said. “Well, why do you get it? Why don't I get it?” “Well, because I was here when she found it. Plus, I'm pretty good with a hand gun.” “Well, don't you already have a hand gun? What if one of us needs to protect ourselves?” I took my old revolver from it's holder and looked at it. “Here, you take it just in case. I don't think you have one.” “Well, it stands to reason that I think you should give me the new one. Like, you already know how your gun works and everything. It only seems fair.” “It would be fair if I wasn't a better shot.” “How do you know you're a better shot?” he said, with a bit of irritation in his voice. “Because I know.” “Well, you really don't. You've never seen me shoot. I could be awesome at it.” “Well, I guess we'll never know. I'm keeping it. Either take my old one or not. I don't care.” “I still don't think it's fair you automatically get it.” I turned back to him, getting agitated by this conversation. “What're you suggesting? A competition?” “Actually, that's not a bad idea.” Brad interjects. “I don't think I like the idea of you two taking pot shots in here when we're trying to keep a low profile.” “Fine then. Next time we get attacked we'll both use the gun. First one to hit keeps the gun.” Marv said. “Fair enough. Until then, I'm keeping it.” I said. “If you were good at shooting you'd own a gun. So, until we prove you won't shoot yourself, I'm holding on to it.” I'm sure both Brad and Bindi could feel the tension building between Marvis and myself. He's far too pig headed to lead this group. I'm quickly reminded why I don't enjoy spending time in groups. Shepherd is the only one I feel I can spend copious amounts of time with. I do hope he's okay. I don't want to continue traveling with these people more than I need to.
The old Bradley Center is a ruin; a testament to a now archaic form of athleticism that hadn't survived “the end”. It reeked of decay and a pungent undertone that none of us could quite put our fingers on, nor did we want to.
In the upper quarters of this place lay the Staff Only sections. I didn't trust it. It felt too inviting with it's fresh scent and carpeted stairs. It felt too good to be true, but I followed. Every time I felt like opening my mouth I'd look behind and see Marvis and think “What's the point.” He'd only out talk my and we'd end up going regardless. I followed, not quite feeling well about the place, but hopeful that maybe it would profit me.
I felt useless. Somehow young Bindi was an amazing scavenger. I'd be impressed if I hadn't felt it was a fluke. As she began to search my mind would think about my first mate and only friend Shepherd. I hadn't seen him since I fled Milwaukee on that dark, raining night. He could be dead for all I knew. Sullivan's Fleet had no grief with him... but he was the closest person to me. I had to stop thinking like this. More so than ever, surrounded by a strange group in a relatively safe place I wish I had a drink...
As Bindi scavenged for anything of use, I found myself sitting against a wall trying not to doze off. Sleep was difficult in Milwaukee, but even more difficult with my dreams. I didn't always remember them exactly, but they usually had to do with my mother and younger siblings. I've tried to hard to keep them from my mind, but every time my brain relaxed, I could feel their presence gently caressing my heart – Were they okay? Part of me wanted to escape back to Green Bay to see them... if they were still there.
I'm was quickly awoken by the sound of Bindi's high pitched squeal of approval.
“US-MIC! I found an US-MIC!” Bindi said holding a bayonet shaped letter opener.
Brad had been standing near by and checked on what she found. “Bindi, it's just USMC.”
“Well, I'm keeping US-MIC.” she said, smiling. “I also found this.” Bindi pulled out a brand, spankin' new hand gun with chrome pieces and a wooden handle. I clenched my old revolver. I could feel it's worn down handle in my hand and it's rusty chambers. It wasn't as reliable as I'd hoped. This new one would be.
“It's mine!” I called out. “I'll take it, Bindi. I'm pretty decent with a hand gun.”
She smiled and handed it over. I looked over it with wonder. Nice hand guns were a rarity in Milwaukee. If you could afford one this nice and didn't know how to use it, you wouldn't have it for long.
Once knowing for certain this office was a safe haven, Marvis walked back up the stairs to join us. As soon as he saw the shiny gun in my hand, his eyes widened and his ears perked up.
“Heeeey, whatcha got there, man?” Marvis said all the while never taking his eyes off the gun.”
“It's a hand gun. Bindi found it. She gave it to me.” I said.
“Well, why do you get it? Why don't I get it?”
“Well, because I was here when she found it. Plus, I'm pretty good with a hand gun.”
“Well, don't you already have a hand gun? What if one of us needs to protect ourselves?”
I took my old revolver from it's holder and looked at it. “Here, you take it just in case. I don't think you have one.”
“Well, it stands to reason that I think you should give me the new one. Like, you already know how your gun works and everything. It only seems fair.”
“It would be fair if I wasn't a better shot.”
“How do you know you're a better shot?” he said, with a bit of irritation in his voice.
“Because I know.”
“Well, you really don't. You've never seen me shoot. I could be awesome at it.”
“Well, I guess we'll never know. I'm keeping it. Either take my old one or not. I don't care.”
“I still don't think it's fair you automatically get it.”
I turned back to him, getting agitated by this conversation. “What're you suggesting? A competition?”
“Actually, that's not a bad idea.”
Brad interjects. “I don't think I like the idea of you two taking pot shots in here when we're trying to keep a low profile.”
“Fine then. Next time we get attacked we'll both use the gun. First one to hit keeps the gun.” Marv said.
“Fair enough. Until then, I'm keeping it.” I said. “If you were good at shooting you'd own a gun. So, until we prove you won't shoot yourself, I'm holding on to it.”
I'm sure both Brad and Bindi could feel the tension building between Marvis and myself. He's far too pig headed to lead this group. I'm quickly reminded why I don't enjoy spending time in groups. Shepherd is the only one I feel I can spend copious amounts of time with. I do hope he's okay. I don't want to continue traveling with these people more than I need to.